Innocent Kindness
by Spider RedNight
Summary: A simple story I've whipped up based on the first interaction between Walter and Eileen, when Eileen gives Walter her doll. Loosely based on "Another Crimson Tome." Hopefully not too crappy, may even evoke mild emotions. Now complete with cheesy title!


"I _told_ you we shouldn't have had a baby!!" Exclaimed a shadowed figure in his mind. There was a symphony of loud sounds as heavy footfalls surrounded him. As many as there were, though, all of them avoided him, the one on the ground, and they all came from one person. There was cursing under a man's breath, the sobbing of a woman, the whoosh of clothes and the snap of a suitcase. He remained on the ground, making no noise. He didn't even think his eyes were open. It smelled musty. Everything was black and noise. So much noise; There was the opening of a door, two pairs of footsteps hurrying out along with the cursing and crying, the thunderous slamming of a door--

Walter jolted awake, sitting up abruptly and clutching the edges of a dingy, dirty sleeping bag. He breathed rapidly, his sleep-deprived eyes glancing around quickly. Not that there was anything important to glance at; the boring grey walls, the dirty ground, the occasional passer-by. He blinked several times, his breath slowing down gradually and his hands shaking. His knuckles were white as his strong hands steadily released themselves from his sleeping bag. His breath was reduced to a quiet shudder as he flopped back down onto the hard ground. His eyes stared up blankly as he licked his painfully dry lips. He could taste sweat and was pretty sure he was drenched in it; it was making his filthy, dirty blond hair cling to his face. He rolled his eyes and reached up to unglue his hair from his brow as he exhaled loudly.

Another dream about the night. The night that started the spiral of events called his life. Walter rolled his eyes tiredly as he removed his gaze from the ceiling of the South Ashfield Station passage. How pathetic was he that he continuously had dreams about his abandonment of his father? How could he leave himself and his mother like that, without ever being heard from again? Walter rubbed his head with a rough and callous hand, groaning softly. What had he done wrong? What was he doing, now? Walter released a sigh. He could see his breath in front of his face faintly, ignoring the pedestrians that passed by, glancing down at him with faces full of disgust. And they had a right to look down on him; Walter, a homeless teenager with grimy blond hair, weeks worth of stubble upon his chin, two or three jackets on, a shabby sleeping bag, and a stench that could make the dead turn in their graves. Walter was used to this; he spent so much time in the tunnels of the Station that he'd grown almost dependant on the looks he was given. Slowly and rhythmically, he gently raised his head a couple of centimeters off the ground and dropped it with a dull thud. He repeated, not really knowing what he was doing, just knowing that he wasn't about to be able to sleep any more.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. He looked sideways, pausing in his self-torture. It was a couple of pedestrians, but they were unlike what he was used to seeing. There was a shapely woman with a formal but nonchalant brown trench coat on, concealing her outfit underneath. This wasn't unusual for Walter. However, he wasn't what he was focusing on; it hadn't even crossed his mind to look at her face. No, he was instead watching what was next to the woman who looked like she would walk at a fast, business-like pace and holding her hand. Walter leaned up slightly to get a better look.

It was a little girl, no more than five or six years old. She was wearing a pink coat with white faux fur around the sleeves and on the hood. She was donning a purple messenger bag on her shoulder lightly. She had a pink mini-skirt on, a pair of pink tights and black flats. However, he was looking at her face. She had short brown hair that was fixed in a bob of sorts. She had freckles forming on her cheeks and she had a small, yet kind smile. But the attractions that caught Walter's eye were her own eyes. They were large and gentle, a vivid green in color. Walter knew his own eye color was similar to hers, but looking at hers made his pale in comparison. His own dull eyes widened slightly as they made their way towards/past him.

Then, as if fate had planned it, those beautiful green eyes darted and glanced at Walter. It was usual for small children to look at him and laugh or tug on their parents' coat sleeves, pointing and asking what was wrong with him. However, she said nothing but also continued to gaze at him. It wasn't a harsh glare, but more of a curious glance. Walter gazed back, rather shocked that someone like her would be down here. And what was more, Walter knew who came by daily, and he knew that he'd never seen her before in his entire life.

"…Eileen, don't look at him…" The young girl's mother whispered, tugging on her slowing daughter's hand. Walter hurriedly glanced away quickly, as to not make him look foolish and creepy. How typical that the adult would say that. After all, he was homeless and probably reeked; he was sure that this woman would sooner jump into a lake rather than spend more time than necessary around him. However, it was the girl called Eileen's turn to speak.

"Why not, Mommy?" Eileen replied curiously. Walter knew it was coming; this was the part where he would probably get laughed at or examined for being some sort of freak show. That wasn't the case. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eileen let go of her mother's hand and start towards him. Automatically cautious that she would make any aggressive movements towards him, Walter scooted back a few inches, so few that it was barely noticeable. The girl, Eileen, didn't stop, though. Walter leaned back a little more, but Eileen kept leaning forward until the two's faces were less than two feet apart. It was then that Walter felt obligated to look back at her, knowing that her sharp green eyes were dancing over his rough features.

"Why are you sleeping here? Are you cold?" She asked, tilting her head slightly. Walter, who had grown accustomed to the cold and almost didn't feel it anymore, shook his head faintly. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't remove his eyes from Eileen's innocent face. Her eyes, her smile, her curious intentions filled him with an unknown emotion, something it seemed he longed to feel but was unable to. He shook his head a little more pronounced, but her gaze told him that she was unconvinced.

"Eileen! Don't talk to him!" Her mother hissed, snapping her fingers as if scolding a dog. Eileen, rather than shrinking away from Walter, straightened up and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Walter consciously pretended to look at something else, a look on his face that could've suggested embarrassment.

"Mommy, he's cold here. Can't you see that?" Those words, as if on command, snapped Walter's glance back to Eileen. This child was smarter than the rest, not falling for Walter's lies. It was his turn to tilt his head, wondering how she was able or even interested enough to care about someone as pathetic as himself. He was even more surprised when he saw her turn to her messenger bag and start fishing around in it. He resisted the urge to look up and into her bag. He was glad he didn't, though, for shortly after starting, she whipped out a small doll. It had shoulder length brown hair, a simple dress, almond-shaped eyes, and a small smile on its pale face. Walter gazed upon the doll, wondering why Eileen had bothered to get it out. Was she going to show it to him? No, instead, she reached and nestled the doll in between one of his large hands and his stomach, where one could feel a powerful, metrical breathing pattern under hardened muscles and filthy rags for clothes. Instead of flinching with the fear that she would strike him, he instead remained still, like a calm dog to a small and innocent child The doll sat up against his stomach, bobbing forward slightly every time air filled his lungs and, seemingly, his stomach.

"You can sleep with her," Eileen beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and whipping her hands behind her back in such a position that she looked like a child who had committed a minor disobedience and smiled at their own cleverness to hide such an act from their parents.

He looked down at the doll briefly before returning his gaze up to meet Eileen's shining green eyes. He gave her a pitiful look, a look that said "Why? What have I done to deserve this?" She smiled wider and closed her eyes proudly. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, but continued to gaze up at her profoundly.

"Eileen, let's go home. It's Daddy's birthday today. You know that. Daddy's waiting for you," Eileen's mother cut the momentary silence with her brisk, yet kind voice. Walter shook his head abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Eileen's freckled face. Eileen stopped bouncing, turned, and pranced back to her mother, taking her hand once more. Walter, his eyes glued on Eileen and her mother, picked up the doll Eileen had placed to carefully and gently against his stomach. He held it tenderly, as if it could break at any given moment if he put too much strength onto it.

"Okay, Mommy…" Eileen smiled up at her mother before looking behind her shoulder and waving exuberantly with her free hand. "Bye-bye!" She called as they walked away. Though subconsciously, Walter felt himself waving back weakly, his eyes still wide with partial shock of what just happened. He felt his hand clench around the small doll's body slightly, tears forming in his murky green eyes. He bit his lip to keep from looking like a pathetic wretch, but to little avail. For some reason, seeing the two of them hand-in-hand like that, interacting with each other, simply seeing each other… Walter leaned forward and fell on his face, holding the doll close to his pounding chest and the other arm over his head and clawing the ground. He looked like he could've been repenting for his infinite sins as he wept into the long, endless tunnel.


End file.
